


Sweet Angel

by waywardrose



Category: Marriage Story (2019)
Genre: Dogs, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Insecurity, Penis In Vagina Sex, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26717146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardrose/pseuds/waywardrose
Summary: Since moving to a house with a fenced yard, Henry has been focused on getting a dog. First, it was getting a puppy for Christmas. When that hadn’t panned out, a dog for his birthday. Nicole wouldn’t install a real fence at her place, but tried to distract him with a new iPad.That worked for a month.
Relationships: Charlie Barber/Reader, Charlie Barber/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	Sweet Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [casbackwardstie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/casbackwardstie/gifts).



> @cas-backwards-tie said: Rose, can I request something? What do you think of the idea: Charlie x Reader and Henry all buying a dog? 😊

Henry gallops into the kitchen, his skinny arms flailing in the air.

"Dad!"

You stop stirring the onions in the skillet as Charlie continues to brown the cubed chuck roast beside you. Henry was supposed to be helping with seasoning, but evidently, he got distracted. At least he opened the cans of tomato paste and peeled tomatoes before wandering off.

"What is it, honey?" Charlie asks, serene and grinning.

"I found the perfect dog!" Henry dances in place. "You gotta see her!"

You joke, "You kidnapped a dog off the street!?"

_"No!_ She's on _Petfinder!"_

You snicker, because Henry is at the age where everything is very serious, and return to the onions. You nudge Charlie with an elbow. Since moving to a house with a fenced yard, Henry has been focused on getting a dog. First, it was getting a puppy for Christmas. When that hadn't panned out, a dog for his birthday. Nicole wouldn't install a real fence at her place, but tried to distract him with a new iPad.

That worked for a month.

"Who's going to care for her when you're at your mom's?" Charlie asks.

"Don't you like dogs?" Henry returns.

The school year's ending soon, and Henry's heading to middle school in August. You and Charlie had talked about really settling into the house. His professorship at UCLA is a success. You were chugging along just fine in your career. You both agree a baby is for the future, but a furry baby could be a nice addition to the family. You like the thought.

"Let's talk about it after dinner."

Henry deflates.

You mumble, "Oh, this's gonna be a great meal, then." To Henry you ask, "What she like?"

Henry lights up. "Her name's Angel! She's a year old and a boston-terrier-corgi mix! She's black-and-white and house-trained! She likes people and cats! She's sprayed and likes fetch!"

Charlie interjects, "Spayed."

"What's spayed?"

"She can't have puppies."

Henry is quiet for a beat. "That's okay. I only want her, anyway."

* * *

Charlie tries to hide it, but he's smitten with just the pictures of Angel. You can tell. Even in the dark. He lies next to you, fingers laced together on his chest.

"The house isn't dog-friendly," he whispers.

You grin. "We can do that in a weekend."

"Do we have any poisonous plants on the property?"

"We'll check tomorrow."

"What if she doesn't like Henry?"

"That's why we meet her first."

"What—"

"Charlie," you murmur to stop him. "Baby." You press yourself to his side and rest a hand on his. "Don't talk yourself out of this."

In the murk, he meets your gaze. His liquid eyes catch the streetlight. His chin barely wobbles as his bottom lip juts out.

His voice is hoarse when he asks, "Do you like her?"

You raise yourself on an elbow and smile. "I do. I really do."

Anyone would be lucky to have such a cute dog. Her description on the website paints her as a goofy, sweet, smart girl. You know she'd fit right in.

"But what—"

You place a finger on his lips to quiet him, studying him. It dawns on you that he's nervous about Angel liking _him._ You know he'd do anything for Henry, and he doesn't want to be the reason things don't go well.

You lean forward and replace your finger with your lips. He puts a hand at the back of your head as he returns the kiss. You taste toothpaste and the hint of lip balm he'd put on before bed. The smooth feeling of the balm smears across your lips.

He clutches you, pulling you halfway on top of his chest. He kisses with a desperation that takes you by surprise. His hands slink down your back, and it makes you arch.

You kick the covers down and straddle him. "It'll be okay," you whisper between kisses.

He nods and catches your lips again. His hands squeeze your ass through your nightgown.

You smooth his hair away from his forehead and trail fingertips over his eyebrows. His cheeks are warm against your palms, stubble prickles your skin.

"We love you, okay?" you say. "Henry and me? We love you. No matter what."

Charlie's eyes flood anew, but you don't let him get too deep in his thoughts. You kiss him again, kiss his mouth open, slide your tongue along his. He makes this broken sound that hits you right in the gut.

You tilt his chin back and kiss his throat. His hammering pulse pumps against your lips as he shivers. The hem of your nightgown slips to your lower back, then his hot hands are on your skin. He pulls you against him, rocking your hips. You kiss up to his ear to suck on the lobe.

He lowly keens, and his hips buck.

You breathe, "So good."

You don't know what you're praising exactly, but you mean it. He's good to you; he tastes good; you like the way he reacts to your touch.

"Oh fuck," he groans. "Fuck me."

You sit up and scoot down his torso. His erection bumps into the back of your thigh, and he bites his lip. He helps push his boxers off, his knuckles grazing your inner thigh. He holds onto your legs as you settle your weight on his hips.

His cock nestles right in your naked slit. You slide over it, work your clit on the thick length of him, getting wetter. He holds your hips under your nightgown. You feel the restraint behind his grip. You know he wants to be inside you now, but he lets you set the pace.

He really is so good to you.

You reward him by kissing him again. He groans into it as his hands slither up your back, taking the nightgown with them. You're almost naked anyway, so you break the kiss to whip off your nightgown. He looks between your bodies and bites his bottom lip to stifle a noise.

You catch his lips again as you rub your nipples on his chest. His skin is silky and warm, the muscle underneath unyielding.

There is a plea in his kiss. He needs you, needs all of you, needs your love and your sex.

You won't deny him. It would be cruel. You brace his cock and line yourself up. Your breath seizes as you glide down his cock. He fills you so perfectly, stretching you deliciously.

His mouth drops open, his gaze darting between your pussy and your eyes. You caress his bare chest as your body acclimates. You dare to pinch his pebbled nipples, and he chokes on a gasp. His hips jolt off the mattress, sending you forward.

You let out a breathy laugh as you brace yourself on his chest. "So sensitive, baby."

"God, you would be, too."

"Yeah?" You roll your hips, grinding on his cock. "Been needing this, huh?"

He hisses a _"yes"_ and pulls you down by the hips. You swear the tip of his dick massages your cervix. That shouldn't feel as good as it does. However, you're slow in your movements, so it just adds another layer of sensation. It makes your cunt flutter.

"Love your sweet pussy," he whispers. "Love you."

"Love you," you reply and rise to begin riding him. You don't want to wait anymore.

Before the bed can start squeaking, Charlie flexes his hips to meet you in the middle of each thrust. His thighs clap against your ass. Usually, you wouldn't care, but Henry is just down the hall. You lean forward and arch your back. The angle changes everything, and suddenly his cock's stroking your g-spot.

Your eyes go wide as you stare into his. He asks if it's alright, and you bite your lip with a nod. He plants his feet on the mattress and moves with you.

You ride him harder, bouncing on his cock. Each thrust reverberates through your body. He begins pulling your hips onto his—faster and faster. Every muscle below your belly button tightens. His dick feels like it rams into your solar plexus.

It's too much, too good.

You topple onto him and wrap your arms behind his neck. You fist his hair, murmuring how he's going to make you come. He groans into your shoulder as he splays his hands on the cheeks of your ass. He forces your hips down as he drives up.

He keeps going until it all boils over. Your body locks up, toes curling in the rumpled sheets. Your cunt clenches around the pistoning of his big cock. You hide your face in your arm to muffle your moans. Your orgasm radiates from between your legs, down your shaking thighs. You feel it in your chest. It's all heat and sharp pleasure.

Between gritted teeth, he whispers, "That's it— Jesus, fuck, you— _Fuck!"_

"Fill me, baby."

And he does, sighing love into your skin.

* * *

The drive to Angel's foster home in Encino is longer than it has any right to be. From the backseat, Henry goes through his stapled packets of papers. There's one on Angel and another on how to properly greet a dog. He reads out-loud the packet on canine body-language.

You pivot in the front passenger seat so Henry can demonstrate ear position for you.

"Did you know dogs 'catch' yawns?" he asks.

"No!"

You fake a yawn, but it turns into a real one. Then Henry yawns a moment before Charlie does.

"It calms them," Henry says.

Charlie says, "Then you should yawn at Angel if she looks stressed."

"You think that'll help?"

"It couldn't hurt."

The navigation system chimes in that Charlie should make a right. He turns into a suburb full of aging houses that have plenty of yard between them. He makes a left when directed, and the system says their destination is on the right.

Charlie parks in front of a Tudor-inspired house. The front yard is obscured by tall evergreen hedges. At the side of the driveway is a black metal gate nearly as tall as the hedges. A tree behind the hedges sways in the gentle breeze.

He turns off the car and texts the owner. Henry grips the door handle, ready to dash for the dog. You feel the first inklings of nervous sweat. A reply comes within seconds.

"They said to come in the front. Angel's in the back."

Henry shoves the door open, and Charlie tells him to look both ways before getting out. You don't think Henry does, but nothing happens. By the time you and Charlie file out of the car, Henry is practically tap-dancing by the gate.

The homeowner, an older woman with dark skin and salt-and-pepper hair, opens the gate and greets everyone. Charlie shakes her hand and introduces himself, you, and Henry.

"Carol," she replies and steps back to let everyone in.

She doesn't bother with a lot of small talk. Mostly, she speaks to Henry, who is enthusiastic, but on his best behavior. Carol appears charmed and offers Henry a chance to give Angel a treat. Naturally, he nods and beams, his eyes flashing with excitement.

Carol directs the three of you to a courtyard-type space by the front door before getting Angel. There are concrete benches in one corner and a bird bath in the middle. You sit beside Charlie and take his hand. His palm is a little damp, and his grip is tight, but you don't mind.

Beside you, Henry fidgets. His knee bounces, reminding you so much of Charlie.

The front door opens, and paws scrabble against the sidewalk. Carol throws a tennis ball out in the yard, and Angel darts for it. The ball rebounds against the hedges and bounces into the grass. Angel comes around the low bushes by the front door, and your breath catches. She's _perfect._ Angel grins as she runs with her shorter legs. She playfully growls as she finds the tennis ball.

Angel turns back to the house and sees the three of you. You expect her to hesitate, but she doesn't. Her brown eyes light up instead. She runs for Henry, ball still in her mouth.

Charlie tenses, but there's no need.

Angel skids to a stop in front of Henry and drops the ball at his feet. He glances at you and Charlie, and you nod for him to pick up the ball.

Henry says _"hi"_ to her as he picks up the ball. Angel reverses, her stubby tail wagging and tongue lolling out. He tosses the ball, and Angel goes after it. He laughs before running after her.

Carol looks satisfied as she observes dog and boy. She moseys to the unoccupied bench and sits.

She meets your eyes with a smile and says, _"Well."_

* * *

Charlie's phone rings as he gathers the dirty dishes from the table. You shoo him off, telling him to answer the phone. He snatches the phone from the kitchen counter and announces it's the dog rescue.

Your heart jumps into your throat.

Meeting Angel had gone very well. She'd liked Charlie and you, but she _loved_ Henry. She'd happily taken treats and scritches from all of you, of course. She'd sat on feet and leaned against calves as the three of you spoke with Carol.

The house inspection had gone well, too. The person from the rescue organization had liked the yard, commenting on the good condition of the fence and gates. The house got their seal of approval as well. There were hard floors throughout, the cords and cables were kept neat, and the houseplants were non-toxic.

You walk the dishes to the sink as he answers the phone. You know deep down it will be okay either way. If Angel's not the one, there are plenty of good dogs who need homes. There will be other opportunities.

As you run water in the dishes, you're glad Henry's not home—just in case.

Charlie wanders away from the kitchen. His voice becomes an inarticulate rumble as he walks. You want to follow, but you focus on stacking the dishes in the dishwasher. It's his call, and he obviously wants privacy.

By the time you're done and drying your hands, it's quiet. You drape the dishcloth over the oven-door handle and try to trace his path through the house. You find him in the master bedroom, standing with folded arms in front of the window at his side of the bed.

The phone lays on the nightstand.

You softly say, "Charlie?"

He sniffles and wipes at his nose before glancing over his shoulder. His eyes are bloodshot with tears, his nose pink-tipped. Your heart sinks as you step closer. You'd been dreading the rejection, but still hopeful they'd want to place Angel with you.

"Oh, honey."

You press yourself to his back and wrap your arms around his middle. He rubs a hand on your forearms as if you're the one who needs the comfort. He's going to blame himself for this, you just know it.

He croaks something, but you don't catch it.

"What was that?"

He clears his throat. "We got her."

"What!?"

His chest shakes with a laugh. "We got her."

_"What!"_ you screech and turn him around by the hips.

He gives you a watery smile. "We can pick her up this weekend."

"Oh my god! We got her!"

Before he can agree, you jump and put your arms around his shoulders. He catches you and buries his face in your neck. You laugh as you hold him tight.

* * *

** Six Weeks Later **

Angel lies next to you on the couch as you watch a documentary on the big TV. She contentedly sighs with her head resting on your thigh. It had been a nice day off. Charlie and Henry were out at some Lego builders show—father-son bonding.

You and Angel had walked to the neighborhood bakery to pick up a dessert for after dinner. You wouldn't tell Charlie, but you'd bought her a doggy cookie to enjoy right then. You know she'll keep the secret.

Especially if you continue to stroke her back. And buy her more cookies.

The kitchen door opens. Angel perks up, tail wagging. The kitchen faucet turns on.

You murmur to her, "I bet that's Charlie."

Her tail goes faster at the mention of Charlie. You laugh through your nose as you mute the TV. He'd been so worried Angel wouldn't like him. It had taken him days after bringing her home to realize she wanted his affection, too. He wasn't a stand-in for Henry when Henry wasn't around. No, Angel loves him, too.

Charlie walks into the adjacent dining room, swinging a Lego shopping bag onto the table. He looks happy, if a little tired.

"Hi, baby, have a good time?" you greet as Angel sits.

"I did. Bought something for us to put together when Henry's here next."

"I'm surprised he's not with you now."

He pads into the living room. "Eh, he's got a thing with the cousins. I dropped him off at Nicole's after lunch." He smiles at Angel, who is practically vibrating. He coos, "Hello, sweet girl."

He kneels and takes her face in both hands to kiss her forehead. Angel promptly tries to lick him back, catching his nose. He chuckles and pets her as he whispers nonsense.

You tease, "I think I'm a little jealous over here."

"Why?" he asks as he moves closer. "You'll always be my favorite girl."

"That so?"

He hums a _"mm-hm"_ and gets in front of you.

You lean forward and take his face in both hands—just like he had with Angel. His palms rest on your knees as he inches in to kiss you. His lips taste like strawberries and cream. He slants his head as he kisses you, and you purr against his full lips.

A cold, wet nose bumps your elbow.

You smile, breaking the kiss. "Maybe I'm not the only jealous one."

"How 'bout I put her outside and we continue this?" he offers with a squeeze to your knees. "Favorite girl."

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://the-wayward-rose.tumblr.com)


End file.
